


We Are Monsters 2

by Jupiterra



Series: Hetalia Monsters Universe [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Complete, Eggs, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Smut, Swearing, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 10:08:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13456011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jupiterra/pseuds/Jupiterra
Summary: Ivan's many secrets begin to catch up with him, including his secret relationship with Alfred. Told mostly from Alfred's perspective unlike the first story.





	1. Chapter 1

“You've been doing so well in foreign trade lately. Those stubborn Russians are even talking to us again. I'm really proud of you, Alfred.”

The words still hung in Alfred's mind days later. The American president had said them with such authority. America savoured the praise like it was a hard candy, slowly and repetitively. Granted, the silly human had no idea how the immortal living symbol of the USA really worked.

Truth be told, America wasn't as popular as he once was. In the 1960's to 1980's, other living nations would call out for him, for his brand of heroism and suave. Alfred admitted he could be forceful at times, maybe a little clumsy. He was trying really hard, no matter the endeavour. That was what really mattered.

Still, the blue eyed superpower was not to be underestimated. 'Diplomatic missions' largely consisted of Alfred just walking into the room, saying what he wanted. The other person, often a weakened third world country or a European state the size of a stamp, would usually agree. If they didn't, Alfred was quick to leave. He simply had too many tasks to be wheedling away with undecided people. If they were insulting his beautiful country to his face, well... fists were probably getting involved.

Words weren't expressive enough for the depths of America's patriotism. Despite all the shootings and inequality, Alfred loved his people. He loved his unique culture, and the multitude of languages that simmered in the national subconscious. Other nations thought he was so foolish, insulting him in native languages. He understood every syllable of everything, and it hurt.

The tanned honey blonde was relieved to arrive home at his small white colonial. Unlocking the front door, he ignored long wild hedges as he slipped inside. Gardening really wasn't his thing. The living room was creams, blues, and hundreds of photographed memories. An impressive TV was set into a custom shelf laden with movies from every era.

Closing the door behind him, Alfred crashed on his super plush couch. In the dim room, there was a lull of brief silence. Only the tick of a grandfather clock and passing traffic broke his peace. Without warning, Alfred's phone came to life, notifying an arriving text.

'Turn on your TV' an anonymous text read. Not recognizing the number, Alfred pawed around for the remote. The screen flickered to life, and Alfred smiled.

A pale certain Russian was there, displayed on his own sofa like the seducer he was. Ivan, the living symbol of the Russian Federation, was an extremely special brand of seduction. His royal purple eyes glimmered with mischief. Skin pale as the moon was lit by romantic candles. The Russian had a strong physique padded slightly by fat.

From the hips down was tentacles, writhing, shining tentacles. They blushed pink, mood enhanced by the romantic setting. There was four larger sturdier ones, and eight slimmer ones. They were long ropes of muscle that could whip outwards and grab anything with startling accuracy. Alfred knew from personal experience how strong the smaller ones were, always exploring where they shouldn't.

“Fedya... Guess what today is.” Ivan greeted, voice silky. Alfred sat up sharply, perking at the tone used. It was familiar, only prior to the throes of passion. “The day I get to see my handsome squid boyfriend.” Alfred chirped, grinning.

“Try again.” Ivan replied, as a pint of ice cream was made visible. It was just vanilla, but any icecream at all was a blessing.

“It's a... um... that day...” Alfred sputtered, mesmerized. His jerk of a Russian boyfriend was being an absolute tease, licking a cold spoon of icecream like it was something else. Unable to tear his gaze away, Alfred swallowed thickly. Why couldn't he be a frozen dessert?

“Bad boy. You forgot. Today is our one year anniversary.” Ivan continued, while Alfred was reduced to small noises. Briefly shaken from his personal fog of lust, the American winced internally. Shit. Today was pretty important after all. It was October the 15th, the day the two superpowers went on a proper date.

Their entire relationship was a series of schedule mistakes honestly. A year and eight months ago, America had stormed over to Russia's house after being stood up for a forced meeting at a pretentious tea house. He discovered the man in his bath tub, looking ready to kill. That was when the tentacles were discovered.

It was less shocking than it was strange. After the monstrosities produced by his own scientists in labs, a few tentacles were nothing to the jaded American. They even had a pleasant conversation after, which was a miracle in itself. He swore up and down he wouldn't say a word. After all, no one would believe him anyway. What was truly insane was followed three months later.

It had been a world meeting, a few months after the tentacle discovery. Russia was absolutely smashed, unable to walk right. Apparently the guy had been forcing his tentacles into pants for centuries, faking 'legs' to the public. Alfred could understand why, but it looked like it really hurt. The calloused dead ends of certain tentacles was further testimony to this.

That particular day, Ivan's fake leg routine was atrocious. Fearing others would clue in, Alfred carried the roaring drunk bridal style from the meeting. His former political rival was just so wasted, and apparently horny as hell. The sex that immediately followed was a mistake.

That was what Alfred had to keep telling himself.

Having sex with Ivan hadn't been a toe curling experience that left him seeing stars. The blue eyed American wasn't thinking about it everyday, for six months straight. That heart fluttering memory wasn't the only thing that got him hard anymore, until he was so aroused he rutted like a beast at night.

Truthfully, Alfred was a shitty liar at the best of times.

The moment Ivan invited him over for tea at his new condo, the sex starved American was already hastily packing a suitcase. It was just lube, sex toys, and the first four outfits he happened to encounter in his walk-in closet. Getting it all past airport had been a lesser layer of hell. Towards the end, Alfred started explicitly explaining how hard he was going to fuck his hot Russian stud. Just talking about it got him all bothered. After that, the airport staff were glad to let him go.

After a long flight and a power nap, the duo fucked like desperate rabbits. Alfred had found his new religion, a new reason to wake up in the morning. The sex was that amazing. Feeling Ivan's channel pull him in, the walls stroking him into oblivion. Alfred wasn't sure if it was a vagina or what, seeing as there was little else to interact with. Ivan didn't really know either, but it didn't stop them from literally entangling at every opportunity. Beyond all this was those dangerously talented tentacles.

Those devious appendages were what finally broke down the walls of distrust built decades ago. Alfred had been at Ivan's cozy condominium this spring. The weather was hot, but it had no bearing on America's temperature. He was in Ivan's bedroom, interlocked in passion. Between Ivan's numerous limbs, he was trapped securely.

Alfred was more than pleased to be stuck in such a state. Ivan was riding him like a fiend while pinning his lover to the bed with all the limbs he possessed. Simultaneously, Alfred's ass was being dominated at a furious rate by a lube slick tentacle. The tanned American was beyond words, electric lust jolting in every part of him. It was all more than a man could take. Tears of joy streaming down his face, Alfred finally came with a howl after being teased for at least forty minutes.

On the verge of blacking out, Alfred felt sacred words slip free. Words he never thought he would say again, especially after all the hardships he had suffered from others.

“I love you.” he whispered, trembling with physical exhaustion. Ivan's eyes softened, his expression breaking in a happy smile. It was beautiful, making Alfred's heart flutter. “I love you more.” the Russian agreed gently, ever competitive. It was still a competition with no clear cut winner. Alfred hoped they could play that game forever.

Somewhere between the friendly bickering, weight training, and romantic trips to weapon test sites, a valuable bond had flourished. So much so that Alfred could scarcely imagine life without it. The world just seemed darker and incredibly boring without that damned Russian. Yes Ivan had hacked Alfred's TV, phone, and computer. Yes he always ate all the shrimp rings without asking. Despite this, despite all the inappropriate texts at three in the morning, Ivan was too damn cute for his own good.

All of that culminated to this day, October 15th. It was exactly one year since that first private invitation for tea. Alfred look at his personal vixen as the Russian ate icecream like a dirty whore. Ivan knew blatant flirting with food drove the eternally hungry American crazy.

Alfred nearly knocked over a lamp attempting to turn it on, not looking from the TV. The lighting was mostly for Ivan's benefit. The entire house was bugged and laced with cameras so his far away lover could always see him. The paranoid American had the exact same done of Ivan's cramped condo for a late birthday present. Ivan truly understood him it seemed.

With heated excitement, Alfred palmed his now trapped cock through the fabric. It wasn't enough, nothing was. Sex with Ivan made everything else so unworthy. Even Alfred's own hand was just a sad apology in comparison.

Glancing off screen, Ivan paused his delicious seductions. “Did I say you could touch yourself?” he asked rhetorically, cocking a pale blonde brow. Alfred groaned, removing his hand. He despised being told what to do ever, but this was a special case. Ivan was extremely rewarding if Alfred managed to behave even slightly.

“Since it's our anniversary, I was going to do something special.” Ivan continued, setting the icecream aside. An impressive dildo was retrieved from off screen. It was all-American coloured and likely battery powered from the look of things.

“You... remembered...” Alfred grunted, gripping the couch with white knuckles. The burning itch or pleasure grew stronger. A week prior, the honey blonde had joked at a similar sex toy in a shop. It had been patriotically patterned much like this one.

“If the price doesn't fuck you over, my country's pride for itself will.” he had joked at the time.

That cheesy line didn't even compare to this priceless moment. Ivan parted his tentacles, revealing his benign looking slit. As Ivan slowly impaled himself on the dildo, he sighed pleasurably. That serene sight and sound made Alfred shiver with need.

“When I visit, I'm going to use this on you while you make love to me. I'm going to make you see stars, sunflower.” Ivan revealed with a devilish smile of his sharp teeth. Beginning to masturbate in earnest, the self assured expression fell away as he sniffled soft sounds with a pillow. Ignoring the previous command, Alfred freed his red aching member. An almost empty tube of lube was fished from his still worn light jacket.

“Fedya... Fedya I want you to make love to me.” Ivan whispered. Regaining the ability to speak, Alfred replied “I want to. I want to fuck you so hard. I want to taste you, be... with... you...” His voice started cracking as he stroked slowly with a slick hand. It was good, but it wasn't enough.

“Mmm... yes. Please... Sunflower...” was all Alfred heard as he closed his eyes and began to pump faster. Closer, always closer, but never there. There where he wanted be, thrusting into Ivan's hot body instead of his useless hand. Listening to his lovers keens and encouragements, Alfred alternated between images from his own imagination and the big TV screen.

After several minutes of this, the honey blonde was growing intensely frustrated. Panting from futile efforts, Alfred growled and stopped suddenly. “I can't, it's not working! It's not you!” he cursed loudly, quivering with built up tension. Ivan paused at his end of the world, soulful violet orbs analyzing the situation.

“It is okay Fedya, I love you so much.” the slavic male soothed, his voice nearly a purr. “I want you so much. I can't... I can't even fuckin' take care of myself I need you so much.” the younger nation confessed, ashamed. “... You remember that date? We went to a carnival, and you tripped on your own shoelace.” Ivan began softly. Alfred nodded, blushing hotly at the memories of three months ago.

Alfred hardly remembered tripping on his shoe laces. He remembered winning half the carnival games. He remembered eating a particularly well fried cod. Ivan lost his marbles over the scent of it, killing three himself. Most of all, he remembered the enchanting rainbow of colours from the sunset, right before Ivan damn near ripped his clothes off. Good date.

Thoughts drifting to the latter half of that evening, Alfred felt a pleasant heat in his gut. “I remember taking you on that beach, making you squirm...” Ivan continued, smiling. “Remember that little trick I did with my tongue?”

Alfred moaned and arched at the thought, heat and tension becoming unbearable once more. Egged on by Ivan's words, he began stroking again. Without warning, Alfred came. Riding waves of pleasure, light danced on his eyelids like sparkles. Finally. After a week of trying and failing, the desperate man finally achieved mental peace.

“I love... love... you... so much... love...” Alfred babbled, uncaring of his now ruined pants. “I have a great big secret. It's so big, I'm not going to tell you until I arrive.” Ivan teased. “You didn't get off.” Alfred pouted, knowing full well how childish he seemed.

“I had no sex for over five hundred years before we dated. I can handle two weeks.” the Russian retorted, rolling his eyes. After dating for year, Alfred was no fool. Ivan wanted it just as bad. That burning look in his devilish eyes was undeniable.

Two weeks. Alfred could survive two weeks. Probably.


	2. Chapter 2

“Omigod Mattie. You are seriously the slowest driver ever. What happened to the crazed lunatic from Quebec that went fifty over the speed limit?” Alfred teased.

America's dearest brother, Canada rolled his eyes. “It was one time, and it was an emergency.” he muttered, brushing wavy wheaten locks out of his face. “Being late for a hockey game is not an emergency.” Alfred said mockingly. Matthew gripped the steering wheel, normally polite expression twisted into a frown. “It is. It is and you don't understand, the game is... you wouldn't get it. You're probably too drunk, eh.”

“I'm not drunk. I'm nervous. This is important. I need another drink. God, what if I say something stupid?” Alfred rambled anxiously, squeezing his passenger seat belt with white knuckles. “Who are we picking up at the airport?” the Canadian asked curiously, glancing over the tops of his red framed glasses.

“It's... He's... a friend. A close friend.” Alfred partially lied, unable to look at his sibling. Ivan was the best damn thing to happen to his sex life since he discovered sex existed. Despite Ivan occasionally being a complete jerk, he could be such a devious minx. Life was just brighter and somehow funnier with the ridiculous Russian sending him little texts. Did his Vanya miss him, wishing they could touch?

“You blush like a school girl.” Matthew teased, dragging his sibling back to the present.

“Shut it, maple boy.” Alfred snapped playfully.

“Maple man, and proud of it.” his brother dutifully replied.

Twenty of the slowest minutes to ever exist scraped by. Alfred hadn't intended to hang out with his brother and his secret lover on the same day. After Alfred mocked team Canada last year in the winter finals, Matthew had sworn he would never visit again. Alfred was just happy to see his only real family again after apologizing with a box of chocolates the size of a suitcase.

Still, seeing family complicated things. Alfred was just going to have to play it cool, at least until Mattie left that evening. After that, Ivan was going to get pounded into the mattress. The entire plan seemed perfectly peachy and doable. They parked the banged up ford four door just fine. They easily located the correct flight gate the airport's sea of white tiling. Alfred totally kept his cool as he waited in a flimsy orange plastic chair bolted to the floor.

He even chatted to his technically older sibling about sports and other such things as the European line plane pulled in. People in stark business suits started spilling out into the airport. None of them were him. The only man that mattered. Still, Alfred was going to be super calm and collected...

Violet eyes caught his attention immediately as Ivan walked into view. Well, hobbled, since he was using his cane again. The world fell away as they locked gazes. Ivan walked closer before Alfred scooped him up with strong arms. A beautiful inhuman purr of delight issued from Ivan as his sensitive neck was kissed. The gills hidden beneath that silly pink scarf were tickled by Alfred's gentle breaths. Without warning, Ivan grabbed his cleanly shaven face and kissed him fiercely.

Alfred, fully supporting a strangely heavy Ivan, sank to the floor. Those kisses, though slightly fishy tasting, were absolutely electric. After a third tangle of nerves and tongues, Matthew's nagging voice floating to partially deaf ears. “... and we're in the middle of an airport to boot.”

Ivan, eagerly pinned to the dirty tile floor, grinned like an innocent child and looked at the concerned Canadian. “Oh, hello Matvey. It is nice to see you.” he greeted jovially, still wrapped around Alfred in lustful manner. Burning hot with two weeks of pent up affections, Alfred pressed close to his lover and whispered “I'm going to cum inside you so hard tonight.”

Ivan trilled joyfully, a soft magical sound one could never tire of. The accompanying expression was living art, rosy hue dusting pale skin.

“So... you guys are dating, eh?” Canada asked, dumbfounded.

“We're um... well...” Alfred's trailing excuse was cut off sharply. “Two weeks ago was our one year anniversary. He's going to be my dearest sunflower forever.” Ivan explained brightly, giving Alfred another brain melting kiss. Alfred blushed hotly, all reasoning skills evaporated away. “Totally.” he agreed absently.

After being convinced having sex right on the airport floor was unsanitary, the love struck American gathered enough wits to function. It enraged Alfred to see Ivan so reliant on his cane to walk. It meant Ivan was being overworked by his boss again. That was hours of marching around on those sad excuses for legs that was his coiled together tentacles. Alfred wasn't an idiot. He knew that emotionless mask that the stubborn ass wore when in pain. Ivan wore that expression for most of the cold war.

“Put me down, American pig!” Ivan bitched as he was carried bridal style to the car. “Nope.” Alfred denied simply. Matthew looked on with concern, carrying Ivan's small luggage bag out of overly polite obligation. “I can walk just fine!” The Russian continued, sulking. “You needed a fucking cane, Braginsky. I'm not letting you limp all over my house like a broken old maid.” Alfred argued just as passionately.

“You can't tell me what to do!”

Good god, that Russian was annoying sometimes. It drove Alfred right to smoking again. “I'm not going to stop caring about you, so shut the fuck up and let me be the white knight here.” the honey blonde snapped, at wit's end.

Ivan paused at hearing the cheesy line, looking adorably awestruck. Matthew stood in the background and blinked with surprise. “Okay, Fedya.” he replied happily, nuzzling the younger nation. Loading a fatigued Ivan into the back seat, Alfred went to buckle in his treasured guest.

“I can do that myself. I'm not helpless.” Ivan huffed, completing the action himself.

“Let me take care of you.” Alfred argued.

“I came to take care of you, so stop interfering.”

“You're such a stubborn asshole!”

“I fell in love with an American beast. I can't believe my standards fell so far from royalty!”

As the two bickered heatedly, they began drawing unwanted attention from strangers. Weeks of pent up energy flared between them like burning gasoline. “Oh fuck. You're so hot when you're angry.” Alfred groaned, painfully horny as ever. He pinned Ivan to the seat, hungry for touch. Ivan complied gleefully, pulling his lover closer for another kiss.

“No. Sex. In. My. Car!” Matthew berated sharply, hitting Alfred with Ivan's one bag of luggage. “Ow! Stop it!” Alfred whined, still trying to grope his boyfriend's sexy body. “Fedya. Your brother is right. It is rude to have sex in other people's cars without stealing them first.” Ivan conceded, annoyed.

“I didn't say that.” Matthew said in the background.

“I'm not stealing Mattie's car. It has like a million miles on it.” Alfred replied, climbing off his lover with bitter resignation.

“Please don't steal my car.” Canada chipped in, partially ignored.

Once everyone was settled, the trio headed back to Alfred's impressive New York apartment. Alfred knew he could be dense at times. He had lived with his brother for centuries. The way he kept fixing his glasses, gripping the wheel. He was upset, and the shy sibling wouldn't say a damn thing.

Ugh. Polite people were almost as bad as rude ones. “So. You and me bro. We're finally going to take down team Ruskie at table tennis.” Alfred proposed, hoping competitive sports would draw his brother out of that quiet shell. They both shared that trait, though Alfred was still unwise enough to bet on such things. One of these days, Alfred could just feel his wagers on college football would pay off... eventually.

“Sure. But isn't it a one on one thing?” Canada asked, moving forward a few more feet in dense New York traffic. “Vanya cheats.” Alfred pouted, not caring how childish he was acting. “I do not cheat. You are just bad at sports.” Ivan replied from the back seat with a sly grin.

“I'll kick your ass, Vanya. I'm a sports god!”

“I would prefer if you had sex with it.” Ivan shot back, sharp as ever. Alfred lost his words, blushing again. That damned sexy Russian bastard! “Besides, I will not be playing with Matvey. He will talk too much.”

Matthew raised his brows at the possible insult but remained silent, while Alfred did the exact opposite. “He already knows we're dating. We might as well tell him the rest! I mean, wouldn't it be nice to do things with other people? Go to like restaurants and stuff? He's super quiet, and dependable, and he can cook food without burning it! That's totally a sign you can trust him.”

Closing his eyes, Ivan pinched the bridge of his large nose. “Fedya. That means he can read instructions. How did you not die eating English food?” he asked out of pure exasperation.

Matthew meanwhile, just glowed from all the compliments. The usual exchange of irritations quickly broke down to insults again. It was now thirty minutes into driving hell and they were almost to the apartment.

“Must you argue over the radio?” Ivan pointed out, competing with the rising volume in the cramped vehicle. “Last time I turned it off, Mattie ignored me on Facebook. Besides, its just Anne Murray. It's the only CD he owns.” Alfred explained even louder, overpowering yet another soppy love ballad.

“Anne Murray is a national treasure and an angel.” Matthew stated proudly, making the volume even louder to drown out the noisy sibling.

The initial argument never stopped. Alfred was hell bent on letting his brother know the truth. Mattie was his sweet sidekick, the one that always took his side in international scuffles. They had rough patches like anyone else, but they were still brothers for life.

The war pressed on, even as the trio entered the warmly decorated apartment. “... please please please please can we tell Mattie?” Alfred continued to drill into Ivan's steely cold resolution. It had taken twenty incessant minutes of pure verbal torture, but Ivan finally caved.

“FUCK! Fine! Tell him whatever you want! Don't blame me when a mob breaks in and kills us in our sleep! IT'LL BE YOUR FAULT!” Ivan yelled in Russian, throwing aside his cane the second the door was locked behind them. Shucking off his pants hastily, he trotted strangely to the kitchen on all twelve tentacles.

Excited, Alfred called back in Russian “I love you too dearest!” Turning to his brother, Alfred's smile fell away. Matthew was just staring at the shed pants and shoes, pale as a ghost. “He just. Pants. His legs are not legs.” he muttered, eyes wide.

“Now, breathe bro. He's just a sexy sea monster.” Alfred soothed, with absolutely no effect. Moments later, the Canadian hit the floor like a bag of potatoes.

“Well... shit.” the honey blonde muttered.

“What happened?” Ivan called from the kitchen.

“He fainted.”

a derisive snort could be heard as Ivan poked his face into the room. “Seriously? He fainted? Like a girl?” Alfred checked his brother's pulse and general appearance. He seemed alright. “Think so bud.”

All the irritations of before melted away. Ivan scuttled over and held Alfred tightly. “Ravage me, Fedya. I want to feel alive.” he whispered seductively. Alfred could feel thousands of small suckers on his skin as tentacles peeled off clothes forcefully. Did he hear buttons popping?

“I'm guessing you're not mad at me anym-m-oh my god!” Alfred squeaked mid-sentence as his now exposed cock was rubbed lightly by a slim appendage. Ivan was the most bossy power bottom the American had encountered in his entire life. It was such a turn on.

Carrying Ivan bridal style, the horny tangle of limbs was laid on the bed with care. Russia shed his clothes rapidly, tossing them carelessly. Moonlight pale chest was exposed, looking fit as always. Truthfully there was something off with his lower torso. Ivan almost looked fat, but only in one area.

Even Alfred knew commenting was unwise, so he filed that thought away for later. “Make love to me, sunflower.” Ivan keened, grabbing at any part of Alfred within reach. Knowing the Russian had insane stamina, Alfred decided to drag out the proceedings. He stripped off what little clothing Ivan had left slowly, teasingly.

Ivan swallowed, drinking in the sight. Blushing deeply, all twelve tentacles also assumed a rosy hue. Alfred climbed onto the bed, parting wandering limbs two thirds his height in length. “Please...” the ash blonde appealed again, propping up his hips. At the base, between the ring of limbs, was a rather plain slit with a small nub at the top. Ah, familiar territory.

Russia was an absolute beast, a marathon runner of intercourse. Alfred's honed oral skills were his saving grace. He set to work, taking a big breath before lowering his face to that sensitive nub. With a tentative lick, he felt Ivan writhe around him. Before his latest pair of glasses was twisted again, the freckled American had enough mind to take the things off. He couldn't see much of anything down there anyway.

Ivan whined when Alfred paused, letting out a sigh of relief when the activity continued. As Alfred felt his lover quiver around him, he took breaths through his nose. The tasty was slightly fishy, but otherwise fine. More often than not, the honey blonde thought about things as he orally satisfied his unconventional lover.

Had Ivan missed him while he was gone? Had the skilled Russian seriously considered Alfred's move-in offer? Had the American been too quick to offer such a commitment?

Mid-thought, Alfred could hear Ivan absolutely falling apart. He paused his motions and sat up, putting on his blue framed glasses. It was a glorious sight splayed below him. The Russian was a panting shiny mess, damp hair stuck to his forehead. He was barely speaking words, having lost his English. Alfred's soft semi sprang to full mast, ready to go. It was so hot to see his bossy lover dissolved like this.

Popping open a bottle of lube, Alfred slicked himself in preparation. Ivan always claimed it was not needed, but Alfred liked to play it safe. Even if Ivan was clearly a male... squid... thing. Alfred honestly didn't know what his needy lover was, but he was certainly not female. Hence, no need for condoms. That was a nice bonus.

Alfred was about to start, when a thicker tentacle clasped his slippery hand. Oh no, god no. Not a big one. “Babe, please. It's gonna hurt.” he appealed with a frown. Ivan trilled softly, batting amorous violet eyes at him. “It won't. You've been stretching it for weeks.” Ivan assured, smiling softly. Nervously, Alfred rubbed additional lubricant on the tentacle. He prayed internally he wouldn't regret this.

Finally, Alfred pushed into that tight wet heat. It positively gripped and rubbed his cock in all the right ways. Oh, sweet heaven. Something prodded at his rear entrance curiously. Without real warning, it breached inside painfully. Alfred was sure he was going to die, when it stopped proceeding. It just stayed there, waiting for him to move. Understanding now, Alfred grinned. After waiting a moment to adjust, he thrust shallowly with great force. On the back draw, he was briefly impaled deeper. The distinctive feel of tiny suckers brushed against the spot, that magic place inside. The American gasped, gripping Ivan's hip region harder.

It was hard to keep a regular rhythm when Alfred was losing his mind from pleasure. He kept going faster, harder, his body hot and thrumming madly. He tried to pace himself, but over-stimulation from both directions dictated otherwise.

Thankfully, Ivan was just as affected. Whimpered prayers of “more” and “harder” escaped those pale wet lips as the ash blonde gripped the bed sheets. Alfred answered wilfully, knowing he couldn't last either way. Everything built to unbearable heights, coiled tightly inside.

“Ivan!” Alfred cried out, achieving orgasm. Sighing, his eyes slid shut as stars danced across his vision. He came and came, having not touched himself for two weeks. It had been excruciatingly frustrating, but he knew how much Ivan loved being filled. Alfred collapsed on wobbly arms, still inside Ivan. “I missed you.” Ivan purred, as they both floated down from personal heaven. “Mmm. Missed you too.” Alfred whispered, listening to Ivan's racing heart.

Alfred noticed bruising where he held on before. He winced internally at the realization. He always seemed to break things no matter how hard he tried. With all the delicacy he could manage, the tanned blonde kissed gently around the bruises on Ivan's hips. Well, hips was a relative term, considering Ivan didn't have normal legs.

“You are so sweet today.” Ivan sighed serenely, basking in the attention. Alfred smiled in response, cuddling that pale semi-muscular midsection. Hesitantly, he lay a warm hand over that mysterious swell. The smooth skin was supple, but the contents inside were not. There was something possibly hard, and very round within.

What the hell was going on?

Ivan pushed the hand off his stomach, giggling “Ticklish, Fedya!” Instantly distracted, Alfred launched a military grade tickle attack. The peels of laughter were infectious, as the American was treated in kind. It wasn't long before Alfred was flailing, tortured on all sides by devilish tentacles.

“P-p-please! Not the ribs! So unfair!” Alfred gasped between tittering fits of laughter. Ivan paused his motions, simply pulling Alfred close as they lay on their sides. Eyes once again locked, an inevitable tidal pull. Those amethyst eyes were glittering jewels to him. They always seem to hold an enigmatic dream just out of reach for Alfred. He wondered if Ivan felt the same. Sweet, devious Ivan with his sexy fishy kisses.

Reaching out tentatively, Alfred cupped that strong smooth jaw line. “I love you, Vanya.” he whispered reverently. The gesture was returned tenfold, as ever part of Ivan held and massaged him loosely. “I love you too. Silly American.” the Russian confessed easily, goofy smile rosy with blush. It was the truth after all.


	3. Chapter 3

They had a quick shower, despite the lack of any real mess. Quick was a relative term, given that Ivan adored water. He took forever, often laying in the spray and letting it massage him. Drying off took even longer. Between twelve unwilling tentacles that wanted to stay wet, It was a miracle to get his guest to slightly damp. Good enough.

Ivan slipped on one of his long night gowns, while Alfred opted for a captain America shirt and comfy shorts. Under normal consequences, they would both remain naked. Poor Matthew had enough to deal with tonight, without both of them parading about in casual comfort.

The Russian seated himself on the couch, tentacles spilling off the edges. Alfred inspected his brother, whom was still passed out by the door. Carrying the wheaten blonde over one shoulder like bag of potatoes, red framed glasses were in the other hand.

The Canadian was placed gently on the couch, propped up in one corner. Alfred assumed his position in the middle, leaning against Ivan. He was quickly engulfed and cuddled, little kisses tracing his clean shaven jaw.

“Maybe we could go another round?” Ivan whispered, playing with Alfred's nipples through thin shirt fabric.

“He's been out for forty minutes. I'm not going to have sex forever while he just lays there, not that I can. We just did it. I'm wiped.”

Ivan rolled his eyes at hearing this, then yawned. It was relief to know Alfred wasn't the only exhausted one. “Dump water on him, then me, if you are so concerned.” The Russian replied, completely at ease.

“You're not getting the couch wet again. It takes forever to dry.”

“If you had a small pool instead of a couch, that wouldn't be a problem.”

“Oh, so I should flood my apartment with water just for you?”

Alfred could feel a smile as Ivan nuzzled him from behind. “That would be wonderful, Fedya. Of course, if you required incentives...”

Of course the Russian would try to bribe him into flooding his own apartment. What a goof. Peeling off tentacles, Alfred retrieved an ice cube from the freezer. Dropping it down Canada's shirt, Alfred stood back and waited for a violent reaction. There was no reaction, at all.

Confused, Alfred quickly checked to see if the ice cube was still there. It certainly was, and it was barely melting at all. “He doesn't feel cold at all! How is that possible?” The tanned American complained, leaving the ice cube to it's fate.

Ivan shrugged. “The cold never bothered me until I was changed to my current condition. I used to stand in blizzards and not feel anything. Finland is also quite hardy.”

“I'm gonna try the water next. If that doesn't work, he's probably brain damaged.” Alfred decided loudly, marching off. Moved to a plastic lawn chair, the cup of water was dumped on Matthew. He jerked awake with a gasp, lavender eyes wide. “What. What's going on.” he blurted out in french, feeling around for his glasses. Alfred handed them over, but didn't respond. He didn't want anyone knowing he could fully understand that filthy language at all. Alfred had only learned it to spy on french Nazis in WW2.

Putting on his glasses, the wheaten blond blinked and looked up at Alfred. “Oh hey. I didn't mean to pass out on you. I just... just... Russia. Russia is right there and he's a sea monster. Alfred, there's a sea monster in your apartment!” Calm raised to conversation level alarm as Matthew spotted Ivan lounging. The ash blonde ignored him while browsing TV for a good show.

“Now, breathe, and don't faint like a little girl.” Alfred instructed crudely, tugging along his shocked brother. “Does he eat people?” Matthew asked, fear obvious. “Only on the weekends.” Ivan replied with a wide smile, showing off his wickedly sharp teeth. “Don't listen to him. He's just an asshole that survives off fish and candy. Do you like candy fish?” Alfred asked his lover, distracted once again.

Ivan shook his head, replying “No. They get stuck in my teeth.” Alfred nodded in agreement. Candy fish were gross in that respect.

Suddenly, Matthew took out his phone and went to contacts. “Bro, what the hell are you doing?” Alfred demanded reaching over. After only two rings, the distinctive voice of a sleepy France picked up. Ivan was faster, snatching up the phone. Alfred could faintly hear the entire conversation which was in yucky french.

“I apologize, Matvey watched a scary movie and disturbed your rest.” Ivan lied without hesitation. “Papa, Russia is a sea monster!” Canada managed to blurt out while America wrestled him into submission. “Such active imagination, yes?” Ivan continued smoothly.

“Ah just like America. My little snowflake is so artistically minded. Did you know he has an gallery debut in three weeks?” a very tired France bragged, the embodiment of vanity and pride.

“Papa! Help! Russia is –” Matthew's panic was stifled by Alfred's hand. The American gave a thumbs up with the other hand to Ivan. The Russian smiled softly, winking back. “I didn't know that actually, I am a great admirer of art when I have the time.” he answered, sucking France into a long discussion about the masters and other shit Alfred didn't care about.

Using the distraction, Alfred dragged his distressed brother into the bathroom and closed the door. “Mattie, you gotta relax. We're not gonna have fun tonight if you keep screaming random stuff over the phone.” the American ordered, leaning against the door.

“Didn't you ever listen to Arthur? There's sea monsters, and magic, and mythical creatures that want to kill you. Ivan is a sea monster that wants to kill you. I have to warn Arthur!” Canada answered anxiously, prying uselessly at the blocked exit.

“The last time I listened to that windbag, I dumped all his stupid tea in the harbour. I'm fine, really. I've been dating Vanya a whole year. Plenty of time to kill me, but here I am. Hell, he had the entire soviet union to kill me, and I won that mess.” Alfred dismissed his sibling's palpable fear.

Matthew's paler expression calmed as he stopped trying to get away. “Are you sure you're okay?” he asked. “Yes. I don't even care if you tell captain eyebrows, but um, maybe ask Ivan first.” Alfred offered, faltering at the last moment. He wondered how much damage the apartment would receive if Ivan found out that Arthur knew. Probably a lot. Canada seemed to understand the concept silently, glancing over the tops of his glasses.

As Matthew peeked through the door frame at a still chatting Ivan, Alfred clasped a hand on his shoulder. “It feels so good to be able to tell you about stuff. Keeping secrets is hard!”

“He doesn't eat people?”

Alfred laughed at the stupid question. “No. He's too cute to eat people.” he replied, gazing lovingly at Ivan through the open door frame.

The ancient nation winked back as he hung up Matthew's phone. “Good news Fedya. We have been invited to Matvey's gallery opening. It is stuffy rich people formal, as you say.”

Reading Ivan's emotions was easy these days, thanks to chromatically inclined tentacles. Red was generally anger. White was fear. Pink was generic lust, hunger, or joy. He was indeed horny all day. Brown speckles seemed to be sad nostalgia, or curiosity. Alfred had no idea on that one.

A pale flicker of colour across tentacles, it was a give away of something. Forgetting his brother's anxiety, Alfred flocked to his lover's side. “What's the matter?” he asked seriously. After all, white was a rare colour to see on Ivan's telling lower half at all. The guy didn't know fear under standard circumstances.

“Nothing. Everything is wonderful.” Ivan lied, poorly.

Sitting next to the stubborn Slav, Alfred examined him closely. “Did you invent a new disease that will destroy the world's population?” “Did you find a unicorn?” “Did you weaponize the Russian squat?” “Is Adidas your new sponsor?” “Did your boss design a new torture chamber?”

Ivan snickered at most of these ideas, his light mood and smirk dropping on the last one. Ah! So it was work related. When were his problems not work related? “Perhaps we discuss this later? It is rude to ignore guests.” Ivan implored, lighting a cigarette nervously. “Mattie, help me guess why Ivan is afraid of his boss.” Alfred called out over his shoulder, while examining his adorable Russian. Ivan looked distractedly kissable right now.

“His boss might be afraid of him...” Matthew whispered loudly, still unwilling to enter the room. Ivan took a drag of his cigarette bitterly, silent. “Is your boss being a jerk? I can rough him up. I can lift a car all by myself.” Alfred brag offered, puffing his chest proudly.

“The big surprise was I would be visiting an extra week.” Ivan began slowly, ignoring his lover's vanity. “The visit may be... longer than that, sunflower.”

“Oh that's –” Alfred's excited response was cut off by a soft touch of a tentacle. The appendage squeezed slowly, a decidedly sombre action. “I was at work, and there was a wardrobe malfunction.” Ivan clarified, confirming suspected sadness.

Alfred furrowed his brows in confusion, then it clicked. “Your pants...” he began, only for Ivan to nod. “He knows I'm a monster now. The inseam ripped while I was standing and he reacted badly. Told me to leave... the country. Not come back. Ever.” Ivan confessed, voice becoming unsteady.

“It's gonna be okay big guy. I'll fly over and talk to him.” Alfred soothed, sliding closer to give a big all-American hug. Ivan actually being upset meant the was world ending. After all, the last time he publicly cried was when the Chernobyl power plant exploded. “... I love Russia so much, is my home... I can't believe... what am I supposed to do... my kitties...” Ivan sniffled in broken Russian sentences, hiding his face in Alfred's now wet shirt.

Patting Ivan on the back, Alfred watched his wary brother edge into the room. “What's the matter with him?” Matthew asked shyly. The long hidden chivalry of his Canadian sibling touched surface it seemed. “Vanya's boss fired him for being too cute, so now I have to break his face.” The freckled blond informed with a villainous smirk.

“Aren't you supposed to be the reasonable one Alfie?” Matthew asked. Both superpowers paused, then Ivan started to giggle. Alfred followed, and soon they both roared with laughter as Canada frowned. “Do you have any idea how much meth we did in the 1990's?” Ivan sputtered between magical spells of laughter. Just hearing it was a gift from heaven. “I've been on medications since the 1970's for anxiety! Reasonable! You are just... the best. I love you so much bro!” Alfred replied breathlessly.

Matthew rolled his eyes, seemingly over his terror of Ivan. “But... yeah I could not punch Vanya's boss in the face.” Alfred concluded evenly. “You have cheered me up Matvey. I feel better. Let us play table tennis together, it will be friendly.” Ivan agreed, giving a real smile.

The idiotic Canadian nodded, “Sure, that sounds fun.” What a mistake he had just made.


	4. Chapter 4

Never before had a plastic ping pong ball seen such intense battle. On one side, Canada and America eyed up their current enemy. Ivan grinned on the other side like the devil he was, paddle in hand... along with two more held by his tentacles. Cheating Russian bastard.

“You can never defeat me, Fedya, no matter how many allies you acquire. I am the all powerful Russian Federation, to defy me is useless.” the ash blonde gloated. “Stop cheating and let me kick your non-ass!” Alfred growled back, returning Ivan's serve.

One on one, the honey blonde was slaughtered every time. With Canada assisting, the obnoxious Russian was somewhat neutralized. In between periods, the two brothers were drinking cold beers as they strategically planned there next round.

Glancing over the couch at a celebrating Russia, Mattie shifted his attention back to hushed conversation. “His main hand is strong, but his two... uh... off hands are weak. We should overwhelm the two lesser ones instead of avoiding them.”

So it was that after 19 rounds in a row of sheer defeat, Alfred finally landed one point. Both exhausted north Americans cheered and whooped, throwing their paddles on the ground. “Champions of the world!” the honey blonde crowed. “Never playing again!” Canada agreed, walking away with beer in hand.

“At least you stopped being scared of Vanya.” Alfred pointed out hopefully. “I am buzzed, not brave.” Matthew countered, less tediously polite than normal. “They are the same thing.” Ivan replied, not upset in the slightest over being defeated. It probably had something to do with winning 19 rounds.

Nighttime gripped New York city. The streets below glittered with street lamps and busy traffic. The life and artificial glow was powerful enough to stain the sky dull orange. Matthew yawned as he admired the view. It was the main reason Alfred rented the place after all.

“I'm beat. I'm going to sleep on the couch.” The wheaten blonde said, still edging around Ivan. The Russian was aware of this and, like a complete child, wiggled tentacles at him mockingly. “Stop being an ass. He already faints like a girl.” Alfred nagged, grabbing the waving appendages. Ivan leaned fully into the touches, his long hidden fatigue suddenly obvious. He was too good at pretending everything was okay for his own good.

“I am tired, sunshine. Carry me to bed.” Ivan whispered, hanging limply off Alfred's muscular frame. “You can't bring a bucket of water to bed this time.” Alfred agreed, scooping up the tentacles with a practised swooping motion. “No fun.” the sleepy man sighed, not fighting over this fact for once.

Huh. That was weird. Ivan was always trying to force his partial water dependence on Alfred. 'Let's flood the apartment' or 'I need six buckets of water to sleep'. The sly Russian always pushed the envelope a little farther.

Gently laying Ivan on the bed, the concerned American tucked his lover in carefully. “So kind.” Ivan whispered, on the verge of passing out. Laying a hand on that moonlight pale skin, the feverish heat was palpable. “You're sick babe. Omigod. You're sick. What do I do?” Alfred blurted out, panicked. Could magical sea people even get sick? Was Ivan dying?

“Nyet... not sick. I'm fine.” Ivan dismissed, already half asleep. “No no no... you gotta tell me the symptoms, and um... medical stuff... shit! How can Mattie remember this shit?” Alfred rambled nervously. He glanced down. Ivan was already beginning to snore.

The last time Ivan had been like this was less than a month ago. Dehydration was fatal to him, or at least extremely high risk. Placing six glasses of water on the nightstand, Alfred started pacing and fretting. After an hour of compulsively checking Ivan's fever, Alfred stopped chewing his nails and going crazy from anxiety.

The fever was more or less steady, and Ivan was soundly asleep. It would do neither man any good if Alfred was a wreck in the morning. There was a good gallon of water beside the bed. He couldn't really do any more than this. Tentatively, Alfred joined his boyfriend under fluffy wool covers.

Ivan couldn't get sick, or really die. He was Russia, the most stubborn foe of Americans everywhere. He was like a cockroach infestation, but handsome and amazing at sex. He never ever went away. Checking that worrisome fever one more time, Alfred allowed himself to rest.

Everything would be better in the morning.


	5. Chapter 5

The next time Alfred woke, it was dark. Sluggish, he flopped on his side and squinted blindly at the burning red numbers of the alarm clock. Three in the morning. Was that really the time? Feeling around for his glasses, he found them and slipped them on. Shit. What the hell woke him up at three in the morning?

The answer to this sleep slurred question presented itself immediately. A familiar brush of tentacles feathered over his skin. “Fedya. Water. Water...” Ivan rasped, breathing hard in the darkness. Alarm and fear shook Alfred to his senses.

“Vanya, Vanya, don't you worry! I'll... get the tub running!” The American replied instantly, nearly knocking the lamp off the end table in his rush to turn it on. The soft yellow light washed over the bed, revealing the situation. Boy did Ivan look sick. He was pale, even for a non-tanning polar nation. All the water on his side of the bed was drained. Even the bucket on the floor.

Once the tub started filling, Alfred returned with another glass of water. Ivan pushed it away with a groan, hiding under the blankets. “No more.” he whined, fully retreating every tentacle with him. He almost resembled a loaf under the quilted blanket.

“You're drying out again, you need to drink.” Alfred insisted, ripping the covers off. A tired ash blond was revealed, curled in a ball of protective tentacles. Normally healthy pink was a shrivelling white on the appendages.

“If the water ain't going in, You're going in!” the freckled blonde announced. Picking up the unwilling idiot as he fought the grip weakly, Alfred carried Ivan to the bathroom. There was barely any water in the tub so far, but it would have to do.

Finally participating, Ivan took off his long night gown before it was completely soaked. Taking care of his stubborn Russian lover seemed more important than ever to chivalrous Alfred. Ivan had been fired, sent away maybe forever by his terrified boss. Alfred was all he had, and Alfred was going to be the most heroic American he could be.

After the tub was over half full, Alfred stopped dumping water on Ivan's feverish brow with a cup. The big guy was already looking way better, less pale and clammy. “My little hero is so upset. I told you I was fine.” Ivan purred, visibly content.

“Shut up and let me take care of you.” Alfred retorted, rolling up wet sleeves. “Vodka and salmon please.” Ivan requested, more than willing to to be waited on. That was right. He hadn't eaten a thing since the plane landed, probably because Matthew was here. Well, no matter.

“Only because you're the best sex in town.” Alfred replied slyly, looking into those violet eyes lovingly. “I love you too, sunshine.” Ivan said, pulling him in for a kiss. Soft lips and that talented tongue made Alfred's brain melt into a puddle. After a moment of heavenly kissing, a dazed honey blonde was pushed away. “Vodka and fishes.” Ivan reminded him with a bat of those long lashes.

“Vodka and fishes.” Alfred repeatedly dumbly, wearing a goofy smile. Even sick, Ivan was so sexy and sweet tasting. Walking to the kitchen, the fog of lust wore off quickly. Damn. Alfred had been played again. Though, Ivan probably was really hungry, and a little drink never hurt anyone...

Happily skinning a dead salmon from the fridge minutes later, Alfred whistled a merry tune. He didn't bother being quiet. Matthew slept like a rock, unmoved by construction noises or lightning storms. A bit of whistling wouldn't break his bear-like hibernation.

One bottle of vodka and a skinless boneless salmon prepared, Alfred popped his head into the bathroom. “Ruskie, I got you some food.” he cheered, laying fresh eyes on the scene. Concern replaced joy in a second.

Ivan was slung slightly over the side of the tub, curling in intense concentration. He looked strained, huffing and wheezing. Setting the chopped up fish and drink on the bathroom counter, Alfred flocked to his side. “What's happening babe?” he asked urgently. “I don't know! Just... hold me.” Ivan confessed with a broken voice. Understanding completely, Alfred kicked off his boxers and eased into the tub. Sometimes you just needed a full on cuddle.

Reaching over to turn off the water faucet, Alfred rubbed small circles in his lovers back. “It hurts, Fedya.” Ivan whimpered, squeezing him like a lifeline. “What does?” Alfred asked, feeling his boyfriend shudder and contract around him. “I don't know.” Ivan stammered. 

Gently kissing Ivan's sensitive neck gills, Alfred said “It's okay to be scared, I'm here.”

“The mighty Russian Federation does not feel fear.” Ivan spat stubbornly before wincing and bowing from internal pain. Arguing that Ivan had technically been fired from that job would be pointless right now. “Just, breathe, and relax.” Alfred soothed sweetly.

“I need to push.” Ivan whispered, barely audible against Alfred shoulder. “What?” Alfred blurted out, confused. Not waiting a second more, Ivan flipped himself over. Back pressed against Alfred's chest in the now cramped tub, Ivan moaned piteous noises. Alfred was frozen, taking in shuddering gasps of air.

The small bump in Ivan's lower abdomen had visibly moved since they had sex earlier. Images of moving organs and Ivan dying flickered across Alfred's confused brain. What did this mean? What hell was going on?

An iron grip that would snap lesser men's bones dragged him out of his shock. “Fedya, I don't want to die.” Ivan cried, openly weeping with his efforts now. Hugging the shaking man from behind, Alfred tried to steady his own breathing. “You won't. You're the asshole Russian Federation that never goes away. You nuked yourself and you didn't die.” Alfred rambled, mostly to convince himself.

“I am the... damn Russian Federation... and I will not be killed by indigestion!” Ivan roared, clenching with desperate vigour. Alfred was torn behind vomiting and fascination as he watched the bump move. He'd only seen such things in graphic horror movies. Even then, he wanted to look away.

Breaking down to Russian curses and random strangled sounds, Ivan bowed and arched with his efforts. After what seemed an eternity, the bump was completely gone. The exhausted Russian collapsed in Alfred's arms, looking bloodless and worn.

“Fedya.” he groaned.

Alfred could see tentacles wrapped around something. Something big.

“Fedya, there is something there. I can feel it.” Ivan muttered, closing his eyes and refusing to look.

“I... know.” Alfred answered tightly.

“You must look. I do not want to see.” Ivan insisted, peeking between his fingers.

Swallowing, Alfred reached forward slowly. It was going to be disgusting, wasn't it? A ball of disembowelled organs, a heap of fish bones... after all, they had to go somewhere. Oh god, if this was a food baby, Alfred was going to literally puke. Last Christmas had been a real learning experience about food babies. It was that buffet's fault, not Alfred's. All-You-Can-Eat was a challenge to males everywhere!

It wasn't a food baby, or a pile of fish skeletons. It was something so much stranger. Alfred had only seen the blue shelled top of an egg, but it couldn't be much else. Ivan made a little shriek, pressing against Alfred to get away from the things.

“What the fuck is that?” Ivan demanded in shrill Russian, losing his cool. “I don't wanna know!” Alfred squeaked, climbing out of the tub. At the same time, Canada bust into the bathroom with crooked glasses on and a wicked case of bed head. “Why are you all making so much noise! It's four in the morning and –”

Matthew saw his naked brother on the floor, then the small pile of deep blue eggs in the tub. He screamed. Alfred screamed. Ivan screamed. Everyone screamed. “What the actual fuck is going on!?” Matthew blurted out in french. “We don't know!” Ivan answered just as loudly in the same language.

“Shut the hell up! I'm trying to sleep!” another renter yelled through the wall. All three boys looked at each other, eyes wide.


	6. Chapter 6

Ten minutes later, the trio was dressed and sitting in the living room. They had each knocked back several shots of vodka already, and no one was planning on stopping. “Eggs.” Alfred muttered, taking another hit of hard alcohol.

“How. How is this possible? Where did they come from?” Canada pestered the couple, looking away whenever Ivan ate a slab of raw fish. Alfred was completely immune to the sight, not registering it.

“It shouldn't have happened.” Alfred muttered, looking to his partner. “You're part sea creature, you're male, this shouldn't have...” he trailed off, feeling lost.

“You don't think I know that Fedya? It's why I was okay not using condoms.” Ivan growled, covering his face with his hands. “I am male. I am definitely male.” he repeated to himself.

“You... you laid eggs.” Matthew sputtered, looking as spaced out as Alfred now. “Give me another drink.” he coughed.

“I am male!” Ivan insisted, accepting as his boyfriend poured three more shots.

“Males don't lay eggs. You laid eggs.” Matthew pointed out, easily taking another shot. “Maybe, the eggs are fakes. This is a joke. It's a joke right?”

Moments later, they were at the tub-side again, just staring. Ivan slowly scuttled closer with his strange trot of limbs, testing the water with a hand. He started playing with the hot water faucet. “What are you doing?” Alfred asked numbly. “The water's too cold.” Ivan explained as he started swishing water around.

“Too cold for what?” Matthew asked. “I don't know! It needs to stay warm okay!? It's really important.” the Russian snapped, grabbing the almost empty vodka bottle. The brother's watched the Russian doing his thing, separating the eggs and inspecting them on autopilot. Between these motions, the bottle was drained rapidly.

There was five eggs total. Three were tiny things, no bigger than a chicken egg. Ivan seemed to reject these ones immediately, spending all his efforts on the remaining two. The other two were large, painfully large considering Ivan squeezed them out of his body.

“Those ones are dead. You can have them.” Ivan dismissed, fussing over the remainder two. Every the opportunist, Alfred grabbed one of the small ones. “You're just... touching it, just like that?” His wheaten blonde brother objected when it was offered.

“It's shiny and pretty bro. Look, you can see your reflection in the swirls.” Alfred replied, distracted by the beautiful shell colour. After studying the jewel quality beauty of the egg, Alfred grinned. “Think I could charge $15,000 for these on the internet? Real mermaid eggs!”

“How can you think of money after all the distress I went through! At the very least, charge $100,000! You're so inconsiderate of my needs.” Ivan said, always with his special brand of drama.

“What do you need $100,000 for, Mr. Bossy?” Alfred prompted, enamoured with the shiny blue egg in his hand.

“Living expenses, and vodka, and guns. I have important needs, Fedya. I have many weapons to care for. I thought you would understand that.” the Russian scoffed.

“I can't fit all your guns at my house in Washington! I can barely fit my own guns in there. I have to hide some in the bathroom!”

“That is your problem dearest, because you made me lay eggs, and I don't have a job... and my kitties... I don't...” Ivan crumbled as he increased in volume. Alfred hugged him from behind, cuddling him as he sank to the floor. Ivan gladly accepted the affection, hiding his face in Alfred's captain America T-shirt.

“To be honest, this is really weird, but I feel better.” Canada finally spoke up, gingerly handling the egg Alfred passed with toilet paper covered hands. “Not being available on weekends, being secretive. I thought for a while you were back into cocaine again. This is weird, but it's better. At least I think it is. Besides, they probably won't hatch. Maybe they're all dead.” Matthew continued, dropping the egg back in the tub carefully.

“I can't afford cocaine anymore. I'm apparently paying for all his fish bills. Marlin is really really expensive.” Alfred complained, getting pinched by Ivan after. “Tuna is gross. You don't want me eating gross things do you?” the Russian flirted shamelessly, kissing his cheek.

“No. I suppose not.” Alfred agreed dreamily, wishing his brother would leave. It was ridiculous how horny Alfred could be after having witnessed such atrocities in the tub. That poor water receptacle was getting washed as soon as possible. Then again, rampant unprotected sex had got him into this situation. If the eggs were even his at all. Maybe this was just a squid boyfriend thing that happened, like how chickens laid eggs that were mostly duds.

Only time would tell.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm unsure as to why I was so attached to the original story, or why it got a sequel, but it happened. Enjoy this strange writing baby. I apologize if this last chapter seemed rushed. Thanks to Vodkanburgers from tumblr for writing pointers.

It was a world meeting of the less productive variety, and Alfred was nervous. This was the first gathering he had been to since he had become a father. He was sleep deprived, stretched to his maximum, and unbearably stressed. No one knew Ivan had been fired six months ago, now a full time parent at Alfred's Washington home.

Convincing Ivan not to tell the truth to everyone had taken a pricey trip to the fish market, but he was eventually sated. If there was one reliable aspect about Russians, it was bribes. Thank goodness.

Germany announced the next speaker, and Alfred began to stand. Ivan forcefully shoved him back down, standing instead on his 'legs'. “Mr. Germany. I'm not on the roster but I'm going to say something very important.” Ivan announced.

“You promised you wouldn't, you lying sack of –” Alfred was cut off as Ivan wrestled to keep him in the chair. The ancient idiot was going to ruin everything! Why was he so strong today!?

“I no longer work for the Russian government! I was fired six months ago! I've been living in the United States of America with a fake ID and – Fedya stop it! That tickles!” Ivan squealed during his revelation, flipped onto the floor. “Shut up! He's crazy, people!” Alfred denied anxiously, loosing his cool.

“I'm in a long term relationship with America and we have five kids together! We're planning to get married in the spring!” Ivan shouted between peels of laughter. The sound was musical, entrancing. Alfred's tired brain paused, savouring the notes like gourmet meals. After a moment he snapped out of his daze, and Ivan was no longer restrained beneath him. How did that keep happening?

Ivan was on the table top now, loosening his pants. “... and I love America very much, and I am a sea monster!” he finished his apparently insane rant, scarf and pants stripped off in seconds. All twelve tentacles spilled from their pant prison, while neck gills were exposed. Alfred groaned and hid his face in his hands.

It was over now. Their happy, if hectic little family life together was ruined. A sleeping Greece woke up as everyone murmured and gasped in shock. “Siren! Sea beast!” he shouted out angrily, moving with speed not seen since the summer Olympics. Hastily, he hopped onto the table wielding a chair.

“Don't hurt the fish! It could have magic powers!” Seychelles yelled in the distance. “Kill the devil fish!” several others jeered. Japan looked at Ivan like he was a low priced sushi dinner. Cheers of “Fight! Fight! Fight!” broke out as the meeting officially became a spectacle sport. Panicking, Alfred slung his infuriated hissing lover over one shoulder. “Meeting was great! Bye now!” he yelled, dashing out the door.

Hiding in an unused dusty office, a miserable Ivan was placed on the carpeted floor. The most surprising turn of events was to discover the ash blond sniffling. “It's the first time in years I've been happy, and I wanted everyone to see, and know... I've ruined everything haven't I? They're going to take the kids away, and I don't want to leave!”

Alfred hushed his companion, giving chaste kisses. Even in such distress, Vanya tasted delicious. Pulling the Russian closer, his long ignored libido demanded action. Just fucking Vanya over and over, until he was a cum splattered dazed mess. Pressing his lower body again Alfred, the violet eyed Russian batted his long lashes. It had been weeks for both of them.

A second need, even more powerful than lust, kicked in. Alfred sagged from exhaustion when soft boneless tentacles enveloped him. Even better than a mattress. Ivan wrapped snug around him, taking in his scent and trilling softly with contentment. They simply cuddled in the warm space, finally alone together after three weeks.

The shiny black tip of a fine leather shoe. It was the first blurry vision when Alfred woke. His glasses were handed to him as he craned his vision upwards. He must have passed out on the office floor. Draped in Ivan's partially plush form, the Russian was snoring loudly beneath him. It was cute how he drooled a little.

Alfred knew it was Germany there, waiting impatiently. “We must discuss matters.” the rigid blonde greeted, as if it wasn't obvious enough.

“Yeah yeah, I'll wake up big guy here.” Alfred yawned, pushing off the floor and failing. Ivan's cushioning grip tightened as he murmured nonsense in his sleep. “It was a real mess out there, huh bratwurst?” the freckled American chuckled as he gently shook Ivan awake.

“Yes.” Germany replied simply. Ivan slowly came to, mumbling “Inya, Papa is trying to sleep. Bother your sisters.” Tousling that silky platinum hair, Alfred chuckled. “Nope. Try again.” Ivan took several long blinks, confused by Germany's presence. “This is not the bedroom.” Ivan muttered, before quickly gaining his senses.

Sitting up proper, the couple looked up. With a huff, Germany also sat on the floor, as to be eye level with them. “It was highly unprofessional to announce private matters so publicly, Mr. Russia.”

“It is... just Ivan now, Mr. Germany.” Ivan corrected softly.

“You must return to work, Mr. Russia. Have you seen the news of your homeland?” Germany insisted.

Ivan shook his head, “I have been rather occupied with raising five little ones. I have less than an hour before I must return to them. I cannot keep Matvey captive with hockey tickets forever. They are not good seats.”

“We should have sprung for season passes, Vanya.” Alfred said, rolling his eyes. “We do not have the money for such frivolous things, Sunflower.” his lover informed him tiredly. “As I was saying, you must return to work Mr. Russia. It is chaos in Moscow. There is riots and fires.” Germany repeated, wrenching conversation back on track.

“My boss is scared of me. He deported me out of the country. I very much doubt he will employ me now or ever.” Ivan lamented, falling back into a depressed funk.

“You will be getting your job back. I am sure of this.” Germany assured, expression steely. Alfred had no idea what Northern Italy found so fascinating about him. He had the sense of humour of a potato.

“I have five children. You do not understand how little time I have.” Ivan deadpanned.

“You have forgotten you are part of an international community, Mr. Russia. When Feliciano, Gilbert, Lovino, and I go to our monthly werewolf retreats, Antonio or Francis makes sure the dogs are fed. I am certain another nation will be willing to babysit sometimes.”

Alfred listened with intense interest. “I didn't know someone so boring was something so cool and new.” he blurted out, grinning. Germany huffed but said nothing. “He is not boring. He is industrious and does not eat on the bed.” Ivan protested.

The strict blonde cringed slightly. “That would be very unhygienic... My condition is common knowledge Mr. America. It is hereditary and easily controlled.” he noted sourly.

“How would you know if he eats on the bed, mister-leaves-fish-bones-in-the-sink.” Alfred asked, prickles of jealousy darkening his expression. Had Ivan ever... no... Ivan hadn't been in a relationship for centuries prior to Alfred. He promised as much. “I guessed Fedya, but your concern is appreciated.” Ivan crooned, enjoying the rise he had caused like a sexually adorable anarchist. The things that turned Alfred on surprised him constantly.

“Do you mean it? You will get me back my job?” Ivan asked tentatively, looking to the bland German.

“Yes.” he replied simply.

Alfred scooted away slightly knowing what was coming next. Ivan rarely became excited, but when he was, it was overwhelming and all encompassing. “Oh Mr. Germany. You have made a true comrade should you succeed. I will knit you the best sweater, and made a delicious soup. One that will warm your very heart, or hearts, should you have multiple like myself.” Ivan gushed joyfully.

“That is not necessary, Mr. Russia.” the other nation declined, totally ignored.

“We will all be best of friends! I can host a barbecue and you can invite all of your states. I would invite mine but they were all killed. Oh but that does not matter! You can meet my daughters, Irina, Marina, Oksanna, Vera, and Yekaterina! I can finally tell Natalya, and invite her too! There will be potato salad, veal, salmon... It will be wonderful!” Ivan prattled on.

“I must be going.” Germany blurted out quickly, getting up and retreating out of the room.

Ivan, entirely pleased, turned his affections to Alfred. God only knew how many sweaters would come from this. But at least the universe was getting back in order again. Everything would be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Like what you see? Comment or leave a kudos!


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